


it’s so good that you’re mine (let’s fall)

by writtensoul



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Always AU, M/M, a millionth of a second, harry is stupid and stuff, how original for me, literally not even a full second of zarry, louis is goofy and stuff, this is an office au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:45:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtensoul/pseuds/writtensoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>office romance au!!!!!! louis is a silly bugger!! miscommunication leads to bad things!! that's it kids!!</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Louis really didn’t do anything awful this time, comparing it to the time he exchanged all the pens in the office to prank ink-exploding pens that ruined hundreds of important documents (that were easy to re-print) (honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal). All he did this time was make all the computer backgrounds a photoshopped picture of his face on Jesus’s body. And he might have opened each Google Chrome tab to Pu$$y by Iggy Azalea. It’s a good song, and literally every person in the office should appreciate it for what it’s worth, which is a lot.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	it’s so good that you’re mine (let’s fall)

**Author's Note:**

> wwoww.o. this is the first fic ive written that has passed 8k. it is 11k. i am going to cr y i hope you like it

"Louis, one more round of this shit and you’re fired. No kidding around this time - Christ, you aren’t even working when you’re actually _trying_ to work. God. You’re more of a liability than an asset. God. Second strike, Louis."

Louis is perched at the end of his seat and using his teeth as a nail file. He’s got this disgusting cut through the tip of his nail, right, and he forgot his nail kit at home. It’s an honest pity.

"Are you even fucking - are you listening to me?"

Louis casts a brief glance up at his boss-slash-uncle and moves his finger back and forth on his teeth. “Yesh, Walsh, I am lishenin’ t ‘oo," he slurs with his finger in his mouth. He refuses to call Walsh by his first name because it’s, well. His uncle’s name is Louis too, and that’s weird. There can only be one Louis in the office anyway. “Honestly." His finger is out of his mouth now.

Walsh sighs and slaps his hand down on a stack of papers, afterward drumming his fingers and keeping a steady gaze on Louis. Louis isn’t going to backtrack and remind Walsh that this is actually not his second strike; it’s probably his twenty-seventh.

Louis really didn’t do anything awful this time, comparing it to the time he exchanged all the pens in the office to prank ink-exploding pens that ruined hundreds of important documents (that were easy to re-print) (honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal). All he did this time was make all the computer backgrounds a photoshopped picture of his face on Jesus’s body. And he might have opened each Google Chrome tab to Pu$$y by Iggy Azalea. It’s a good song, and literally every person in the office should appreciate it for what it’s worth, which is a lot.

Walsh snaps his fingers in front of Louis’ face a few times and Louis grumbles.

"Second strike. Be on your toes."

On the way out Louis tip-toes. And he may tip-toe around the office for the rest of the day, too.

—

On the next day of work Louis can’t help but notice there is a new person in the cubicle across from his own. There’s about a meter and a third between the two so Louis has either made great friends or great enemies with the person who is assigned to sit there. He’s noticed, though, that they always up and leave one day, whether it be from his pranks or non-stop jabbering or bribing from his uncle, who probably notices that the level of work done in the cubicle across from Louis is normally subpar. Louis refuses to believe it’s because of him because it _isn’t_.

The new person has their back turned and is in the middle of straightening out a picture frame of Louis-can’t-tell-what when he makes his way to his cushiony, spin-y chair that he bought with Walsh’s money because his bum comfort greatly effects the result of his working day.

Louis spends a good fifteen seconds checking out this person’s back. It’s clearly a man, with the broad shoulders and the non-existent hips. He’s very tall and he’s got absolutely magazine-worthy curls, a tiny bubble-butt deserving of a squeeze and a slap, and Louis can only hope that when he turns around his face matches everything else. Louis has made many a mistake in bars; he’s spent his time checking out a man’s behind and then finding out that he was…a butterface. A butthisface. An ugly, ugly man—and that isn’t to say that Louis is completely shallow, but when you’re searching for a hot fuck you kind of want a hot person to match, too. Fact.

"Hiya!" Louis tries, crossing his legs on his wheely chair and rolling himself forward toward this man’s cubicle with one bare foot. He ends up catching a wheel on his hoodie draped on the floor and his chair flings him right off, right into the man in front of him and his face slides mercilessly slow down his back until he’s on his knees with his face in the guy’s butt, which. Okay.

"Hello," the man says slowly, like Louis is a dangerous animal and may bite at his ass if provoked. Which is true, but he isn’t so dangerous.

Louis peels himself away after an inappropriate amount of time and pushes himself back up onto two slightly stable feet, which he decides was a badbad _bad_ idea immediately after because his knees go incredibly weak at this guy’s fucking _face_. It’s like, marble. Maybe some witch cast a spell on a Greek statue and this thing came to life, which is far more believable than this man just coming to be, like… naturally.

"Well shit," Louis says dumbly, scratching at his stomach just for something to do, like. Even if he can’t control his mouth he may as well try to control his limbs.

The beautiful man goes to reply with a beautiful tulip tint on his beautiful cheeks, but then of course the wonder that is Louis Walsh storms on over and puts a less-than-chappy hand on Louis’ shoulder.

Louis decides to be a prat, a little bit. The poor man is still floundering from his lovely welcome to the office: a face in his butt.

"Walshy, my _dear_ ," he coos to his loving uncle, hands around his neck and one single foot in the air, like a doting wife to her hard-working husband. Only he’s a boy, and a nephew to his uncle. Jokes, though. And stuff.

"Mr. Styles, this is Mr. Tomlinson," Walsh introduces rather stiffly while simultaneously ignoring louis completely. It could be a talent, him ignoring Louis. Louis is pretty hard to ignore.

Suddenly the man whose last name could be that of a famous porn star’s grins so wide that a dimple pops out of his cheek and he seems to be on his feet in two milliseconds flat, unlike when he was blushy and shy with Louis. Maybe it was because Louis’ face slammed into his bum.

"Lovely to meet you, Mr. Styles," Louis purrs, holding out a - newly manicured - hand, and Styles takes it with his MammothSasquatchGiantWhatthefuck hand, giving it one hard pump before releasing and Louis titters out loud at his own mind’s descriptors. He’s truly horrible sometimes.

"Likewise," Styles says in his deep, sultry tone, like he’s actually in the middle of fucking Louis instead of exchanging pleasantries, and Louis shivers so hard he has to use Walsh as a stabilizer. How pathetic.

"Right, well. Work to do, boys," Walsh says pleasantly and then peels Louis off of him, walking off to do bossy duties or something.

Once he’s gone Louis puts a hand on his hip and Styles looks between Walsh’s retreating figure and then Louis, a put-on kind of smile, and then he seems to shake himself out of it and focus more on Louis, properly.

"I’m Louis," Louis says proudly, putting his hand out for a second time, aiming for a more normal, less awkward, and less forced introduction. When Styles takes his hand again he holds on for longer and says his name’s Harry, Harry Styles. Louis blushes.

Since there’s nothing else to say, really, except “please strip me and bend me over the nearest desk", Louis salutes and Harry mimics and they sit and do work, only Louis whips out his nail file after a few moments and destroys whatever work Perrie had done last night. It’s a nervous habit, to file his nails and file and file until he’s got only nubbins left.

Louis really should be doing work. He’s got things to do, things that honest-to-god need to be _done_ , like pitches for the meeting next week and ideas to look over and advise, and there’s an intern due to arrive tomorrow that Louis’ apparently in charge of. It’s a little bit ridiculous, because Louis is terrible at being strict toward people and in movies you either treat your intern like shit or fuck them. And Louis has his eyes already set on someone. The joys of working for a company that’s predominantly young, fresh people. Or something.

After Louis’ gone through one stack of papers, he checks the time on his computer (which still has the background of himself as Jesus). It’s 10:46 and he’s well-deserving of a hot cup of tea and a Coffee Crisp bar. When he slides out of his cubicle and saunters past Harry, he maybe swings his hips so hard he could knock and incoming person out. He’s got hip-power.

The break room is actually really wonderful. You have a mind-blowing view of sunny New York to the left and an area of three bean-bag chairs to the right, which Louis is briefly reminded that that was the result of Walsh’s attempt to be young and hip; to try to liven things up in the floor of brown walls and furry floors. Perhaps they could get around to painting the walls lime green like Louis had suggested a couple months back.

The tea is nestled in its cubby above the electric kettle when Louis tromps over; there’s already a hand in it and Louis’ tempted to smack it away until he sees that it’s just Niall and in Louis’ mind, if you could smack a Niall, you could kick a puppy. Or light a children’s hospital on fire. They’re all of equal offence.

"Ah, my fair-skinned Irish lover," Louis coos, sliding a hand jokingly up and down Niall’s back all while gently hip-bumping him away so he can get his own hands into the cubby. Another attempt at revamping the break room was made here with the multiple cubbies made of different colors but the same plastic, and it looks admittedly cool. It was Zayn’s idea, and it was his gift to the office before he went off to better places, which really means that he moved into Louis’ flat and quit his job and nearly lives on the couch, now. Poor little fella.

"Darling," Niall says right back with a grab at Louis’ bum - nearly customary when you’re in Louis’ “clique" - and he scoots right out of the way because he knows Louis turns into a six year old with pinchy fingers when he doesn’t get his hot, steaming cup of Yorkie tea. “How’s things?"

Louis plucks a tea packet and drops it into his special tea mug with a man on it who loses his tiny boxers when there’s hot liquid in the cup, and faces Niall with a little grin. “Well. I’m gonna screw my cubicle neighbour," he says, “right after I get poor Gregory off my back."

Niall makes an amused little noise and makes his own tea, pouring water into both cups and Louis howls and lifts his cup eye-level so he can watch the bottoms fade away from his tiny man and his boy bits come into view. It’s oddly satisfying.

"Anyway. I have to babysit the intern, so I gotta go prepare a list of things I’d like him to do for me. My car could use an oil change. My body is in need of some kind of liberation. He may be slightly useful." Louis shrugs like _what can you do_ and Niall copies before they part ways and Louis walks back into the main floor with a hand covering his tiny man mug so some poor eyes don’t get a load of tiny man junk. He’s not always so kind as to spare his colleagues, but he’s in a good mood today. Because there’s a hunk across from his cubicle.

Styles - Harry, rather - is working hard when Louis struts past him for a second time and plops himself down onto his chair. There’s a tiny wrinkle between his brows and his lips are pursed so hard they’re bright pink, which, not a good thing as long as Louis’ in work and has a fully functioning penis, and he’s drumming his giant-ass hands on his dolphin mouse pad.

Louis has to know what’s gripping his attention so intently. “Hey, Harry?" he tries, and then watches as Harry yelps and jumps. Huh.

"Uh, yeah?" he asks, cheeks a little pink once again and Louis so fiercely wants to grab onto them and give them a hearty pinch, but he restrains. Harry seems to get a grip on himself and then he gains that lazy sort of confidence again, and it’s almost like he just needs a moment to remember who he is or, like, why he’s on earth and stuff. And then he’s good again.

"Whatcha doin’, lovebug?" Louis questions, testing this guy out just a little while he snaps his invisible gum and twirls his invisible ponytail.

The guy laughs, which. Good. He can handle pet names and teasing, which is prime in a person he’s planning on fucking, or just anyone who associates with Louis in general. So.

"I’m working, at my job. Which you’re supposed to do work at. Because it’s work."

"Alright, cheeky chappy. You can tone down your sarcasm, please and thanks. That’s my job around here."

"Actually, I’m pretty sure your job is to-"

"Nanana. Shhh. Sh. Don’t speak," Louis says dramatically, hiding his eyes with an arm across his face and his other hand held out at Harry as if he has The Force and can make Harry shut up at will. It works, though; when Louis peeks at Harry again the man has his mouth shut and his pointer finger and thumb are pinched at the end of his lips like a lock and key. Louis is infinitely pleased. Louis is slowly falling in love. Ah.

Since Walsh has a lovely habit of coming across Louis when he’s not doing any work, he strolls down the aisle of cubicles and gives Louis a _look_.

"My dear, kind Walsh," Louis says to warm him up a bit, and since people seem to have a hard time resisting Louis’ “please love me" smile, Walsh gives a fond shake of his head and only gives Louis’ shoulder a little squeeze. When he’s passed, Louis looks at Harry’s pinched face and says, “He’s kind of my bitch." It’s a little bit true.

Harry just nods like it’s serious business. Like there’s ten small, cute children on the line. All Louis’ worried about is being able to get past this guy’s weird attitude so they can have hot, sensual sex next to the water cooler. Or maybe over a bean-bag chair.

—

"Zayn."

"Grph."

Louis prods the lump on the couch once more. “Zaynie baby."

That makes Zayn roll over and expose his bare belly, which Louis dutifully pats kindly and then sits on.

"What you need?" Zayn asks him and tries to push Louis off - fruitlessly.

"Guess who’s taken your cubicle at work?"

"Mirana Crosgrove."

"Close. But he’s so hot, he - he may even be prettier than you, Zayn."

That makes Zayn choke on his spit and sit up, and Louis knows it’s just for show so he hugs Zayn’s torso and nods.

"Yes. He is beautiful. If only you showered and brushed your hair and let your skin see the light of day every month or so, then you two may be tied, but."

Zayn hasn’t got off the couch in probably a solid two days. It’s a little sad for Louis to see his best friend so awfully upset and depressed, but he can see why. Being caught having sex with the receptionist by the whole office, and then having pictures taken and sent to everyone who missed it, might do some bad things to you. It’s also not just that - Zayn just has horrible luck with relationships of any kind, except for the one he has with Louis. So. Louis isn’t going to shout at Zayn to get his shit together just yet, but maybe soon.

"Get a picture for me tomorrow?"

"Sure, pal."

They have dinner together on the couch - Chinese from Sam’s - while Friends plays and Louis cuddles up with Zayn, because he’s pretty sure Zayn doesn’t get a healthy dose of human contact each day. He does not.

Louis decides to be responsible and goes to bed after only two episodes of My Name is Earl and dreams about being forced to kiss Randy. (Only mildly horrifying.)

—

There’s an adorable-looking boy at Louis’ desk when he trots into work the next day. Louis’ so tempted to scratch him behind the ears and coo, “I didn’t think puppies were allowed into work, hm? Aw, little baby, come get a yummy treat," but that would be scarily unprofessional and Louis thinks he may just pretend to act like a tough boss for a bit.

"Front and center," Louis shouts, a little loud too for the benefit of the people around him. They sometimes like to watch Louis’ shenanigans. (Plus he wants Harry to stop doing work and look over at him.)

"Oh my, oh, okay," the poor frightened boy nearly stutters, scrambling in front of Louis his hands straight at his sides. Then Louis notices the steaming cup of tea on his desk. It’s in a ladybug cup, so it’s not the same, but still. Awesome.

"Sweetie, is this for _me_?" Louis asks while he goes to crowd around the little cup. He hears a feeble sound of affirmation and feels so awful for scaring this boy that he pouts and turns from his tea. “I was just joking, by the way. I’m really nice. Just ask my best buddy Harry, here."

Harry’s head bobs up behind Intern and Louis nods and winks as encouragement, so Harry grins and does two thumbs up. Harry’s looking very lovely today with a pink button-up and steam-pressed pants without one single wrinkle. It’s almost a spectacle.

Intern still looks nervous and scared, so Louis sighs and says, “Look, even ask my husband Walsh. He can vouch for me." He giggles into his palm and looks to see if Harry’s laughing too, because yuck, he’s not married to his uncle, but Harry’s frowning deeply and scrambling to push headphones into his ears. Huh.

"Uh, he’s not really my husband. He’s my uncle. Anyway."

After Harry’s weird attitude, Louis feels a little grumpy so he gets Liam - Intern’s name - to get him the sugary-est snack food he can and a Caramel Ribbon Crunch from Starbucks, too. For a moment he feels like a movie star until he realizes he didn’t actually have that much money to spare and used his last bit of cash to get food instead of getting Zayn’s hair gel as a present. He was hoping it would get him out of bed, only if for a night. He savours his donut and drink for as long as he can, and licks cream off his fingers as obviously as he can but Harry doesn’t so much as turn his head one single degree toward Louis. Poor Liam had to watch the whole thing.

"So… this is what you do here?" Liam questions at half-past two, looking a smidgen worried about his life choices. Louis feels a bit bad for making this job seem easy and a pile of shit at the same time, because he knows there’s people in this office that take their jobs so seriously that it’s scary and that it can be fun, too, to make mock-ups and have slightly rowdy pitch meetings.

"No, um. Today was just a flop day, you know? I’m ahead of my work, so I guess I guess goofed off a little," Louis fibs, tapping his fingers on random keyboard buttons absently. Liam looks slightly understanding and relaxed so Louis counts it as a win on both parts.

Until he notices that his keyboard-tapping resulted in him opening 207 programs by accident.

 

After closing all the tabs individually and finding out after that there’s a snazzy way to press one button and close them all, Louis is antsy to go home and tell Zayn that this intern is the one for him. He’d had a very awkward conversation with Liam that consisted of ‘are you gay?’ and ‘are you single?’ and Liam blushing and saying yes to both.

He only realizes that he’d forgotten to tell Liam that he wasn’t asking for himself when he’s at home and curled up on the couch with Zayn.

"My party is soon," Louis says to break Zayn’s concentration on the tv. After a grunt, Louis continues. “The intern will be at it. He’s cute. Your type."

Louis watches Zayn’s head turn slowly, his eyes still on the tv, and then his gaze follows and snaps to Louis’ eyes. “I haven’t been with a man in a year," is all he says.

Louis ignores the fact that he himself was the “man" and forces his expression into a pleading one and nudges Zayn a little, even kisses his cheek to warm him up to the idea. “C’mon. Brown eyes, brown hair, looks like a puppy but could easily pick you up and run up ten sets of stairs." After Zayn’s silence he adds, “You gotta get laid."

Zayn finally giggles and it’s such a welcome sound to Louis after all the moping he’s seen, and then Zayn asks all about Harry and Louis’ stupidly glad to tell, though Harry’s done nothing but block him out and occasionally peek over until Louis catches him. Louis has such a hard time reading him.

  
At work Louis teases Liam and says he knows someone who likes him, and Liam always blushes and bites his cute lips. When lunch rolls around Louis is finally brave enough to ask Harry for a friendly lunch, and Harry actually says yes after looking terribly guilty. Louis wants to throttle him, a bit, ask him what his problem is. But he refrains.

They go through the obligatory topics: asking how Harry likes his job, how old he is, how old Louis is, how long he’s been working for Wheatley Advertising, boring shit like that. That is, until Harry bites his lip after finishing his veggie burger and says, “You and Mr. Walsh seem to have a great relationship." He looks so god damn earnest that Louis’ a bit stricken, and he nods.

"Well, you know. I’ve known him forever, so. He puts up with me, I guess." He gives a little confused laugh but Harry seems a little sad, like the fact that his uncle just puts up with him is awfully heartbreaking, so Louis begins to fill his glass of iced tea with pepper and ketchup just to get away from the topic of Louis and their boss that seems so be so tense, and then the bill comes and when Harry begs to pay Louis doesn’t try all that hard to decline. These days is seems like Louis’ bank account is filled with loads of zeroes and not in the right places.

On the way back to the office Harry’s hand brushes Louis’ twice in a row and Louis is so fucking sure that Harry will just join their fingers, but instead he lifts his hand to his chest and holds it there like it’s wounded or something like that. Louis almost screams.

—

Somewhere along the way Louis starts to spend every lunch hour with Harry. He’d honestly only wanted a quick hookup, but…the way they banter and joke and fleetingly touch is almost better. Almost.

One lunch hour he brings a plastic baggy of pot brownies to Harry’s desk and runs to the break room to steal a bean-bag chair and smiles fantastically wide at Harry’s fantastically wide smile. Before he hands a brownie to Harry he briefly wonders if he should let this poor little boy know that he’s about to consume wrongfully illegal drugs, but he distracts himself with the way Harry’s fingers carefully dig through the bag and pluck the smallest brownie, because he’s dumb and polite like that.

He definitely doesn’t worry about practically feeding Harry drugs when he sees the glass in Harry’s eyes an hour later, after he’s consumed three more brownies. He’s slumped back in his chair, looking more comfortable than Louis’ ever seen him, and he’s casually talking to himself about his cat, Snookie, who’s probably home along crying. Apparently.

“Hey, Harry?” Louis asks after Harry runs a lap around the floor and then begs for another brownie. “I think it’s time you slow down, or something. Think you should take the afternoon off?”

Harry’s brows furrow and he scratches his head of curls, as if he’ll get the answer by doing that. “You know what, I think you’re right. Time to go home. My name is Harry...” Harry starts to sing and bob his head around.

Louis vows to never feed Harry drugs again and gets Harry to pretend to be sick, and then hollers for Walsh, because even if Louis isn’t able to get Walsh to let him have a day off, he’ll be able to get him to let Harry off.

“Harry’s taken very ill, very suddenly,” Louis says grimly on the way back to his and Harry’s cubicles, hand on Walsh’s shoulder. “The little guy can’t even walk straight. I’m thinking mad cow.”

Walsh snorts and then stops in his tracks, very obviously spotting Harry at the same moment Louis does. Harry is sprawled on the floor with his hands down his pockets, and he’s mimicking epilepsy, or something.  He’s got this giant grin on his face and he keeps flopping to one side, and then another, very clearly a picture of someone high on weed and also someone who was a fish in their past life.

An hour later, after a hasty trip to the hospital that Louis was sweating over, Harry’s released and given a very stern talk about substance abuse while Louis cowers in the corner. Thankfully Walsh had sped back to the office because apparently it can’t be left unattained. Harry’s mad at him for all of two tense minutes, and then he breaks out in giggles and shoves Louis and Louis savors the few seconds that Harry’s fingers were around his biceps.

\--

Louis apologizes to Harry the next day by bringing him a gelatin mold in the shape of a penis. It’s purple, tastes like grape and sincere apology, and Louis slaved over it. Meaning, he got Zayn to get up and pour the hot water and then just watched on so he wouldn’t start anything on fire.

Harry actually manages to look like he means it when he says thank you, and even hugs Louis and gives him a pat on the head as if he’s a little puppy. Louis still takes it and runs with it; his mind goes into overdrive and he convinces himself that Harry’s fingers had stayed long enough on Louis’ head to insinuate that he wanted Louis to meet him in the loos to make out. Or something.

\--

Louis has a plan. He’s a man with a plan, as whoever says that would say. He’s going to seduce Harry Styles, even if it takes walking into work naked with a bowl of whip cream to get things rolling. He made a little list of things to try last night with Zayn by his side (Zayn had only stayed to listen to his plans because Louis promised to show pictures of Liam that he’d snuck during lunch), and they’re going to work. Because.

He starts it off easy with an invitation to coffee after work, which is very lad-y and not at all date-y, but that’s not all. He begs Harry to order a hot chocolate with extra whip because _it’s the absolute best,_ and then they sit down. Louis has just a small Pumpkin Spice.

 “Wow, that whip cream looks good,” Louis breathes, looking at it, guiding his face into a longing expression and not one of mischief. Because he’s very much full of mischief at the moment.

“It really does,” Harry agrees, kicking his feet under their small table and hitting Louis’ with a little grin. Both dimples pop out this time, and Louis wishes he was creative enough to make some kind of poem about how Harry’s dimples make him feel. Mostly just horny.

“I mean, _really_ good. Like, I may just die if I don’t try some,” Louis blabbers on, pulling his best I’m-cute but-I -don’t-know-it face, and walking his fingers like a spider toward Harry’s cardboard cup. In the middle of Harry saying that he can take a sip, Louis swipes his pointer finger through the swirly mess of whip cream and brings it up to his lips, all while looking at Harry’s widened eyes.  Even though he’s just got cream on the tip of his finger, he slides the whole thing into his mouth up to his knuckle and bobs his head on it.

God damn anyone who says he doesn’t have a good technique, because Harry’s absolutely choking on air and kicking his feet hard on his little stool that’s probably just barely keeping his weight because he’s _huge_.

“Are you alright?” Louis asks with his finger pulling down on his lower lip, and then counts it as a win when Harry nods and excuses himself to the bathroom.

Louis just gets extremely suggestive after that. When he finds a broken stapler (or rather, breaks a perfectly fine stapler) he brings it to Harry with a pout and sits on his desk and kicks his feet while Harry fixes it with an intense look on his face.

“Wow, you fixed it,” Louis gushes after, using his feet to trap Harry’s thigh with. “You must be doing _something_ with those hands to keep them so capable of fixing things that are completely... _destroyed_.” Louis just breathes the last word, fingers flitting to his mouth so he can play with his lips, because he found out before Harry has a thing for that.

When Harry excuses himself for the second time Louis skips off to find Perrie and gloat about how he’s absolutely winning the new guy over. It kinda feels like more than just that, though, because the way Harry blushes so easily at him and giggles like Louis is the funniest thing in the world is like...it’s like Harry has this massive crush on him that he won’t admit to. And Louis’ going to do anything he can to have Harry stumble on his stupid legs over to him and just _say it_ already.

Harry comes back significantly more flushed and he only smiles politely at Louis’ jokes, which isn’t what Louis wanted. He wanted Harry to come back and get on his knees and confess his love with a blowjob.

“Listen, I got these coupons to mini golf,” Louis says as a kind of last resort, and Harry finally looks over to him with a genuine smile that has a little bit of guilt laced into it. Huh.

“And you were wondering if I could accompany you and watch you scar young children with your fowl mouth?”

Louis loses it at Harry’s amount of cheek, and maybe he laughs so hard that he has to stumble over to Harry and use his shoulders as balance while he smushes his face in Harry’s yummy, coconut-y hair. Harry doesn’t react, other than a little snort and then something that sounds like a fucking purr.

 

They decide to just meet at the mini golf place and the fact that they didn’t carpool is not mentioned because Louis is a hundred percent sure it’s because it would be more like a _date_ that way. Plus Harry mentions how not date-ish it is the whole time.

“What a fun lads night, isn’t this?” he says while Louis puts his ball so hard that it flies over a plastic crocodile and lands in the tiny pool.

“Very lad-y,” Louis grumbles as he kneels down next to the pool and fishes his pink ball out. It’s landed in the very middle and he stretches further, feeling Harry’s eyes burn into his back. Or his bum, hopefully. He’s just about to reach it before he topples forward and gets a face full of kiddie-infested, goldfish riddled water. “ _Fuck!_ ” 

“Oh my, Go- _od_ ,” Harry shrieks, leaping forward like a leaping thing and tugging Louis out of the water like it’s molten lava. It’s a very nice gesture and it’s all very appreciated, but also extremely embarrassing, so Louis jumps onto his feet begins to run with his hand in Harry’s.

“Just _run_!” he screams when Harry pants and asks _why are we leaving, I’m having fun and you’re only wet_ , and they run and run until they collapse into a small food shop and grab some bagels and a few sweets. Louis’ still panting when they sit down and Harry’s still grinning like a maniac, and his hair’s all wind-swept and he’s flushed like an excited kitten.

“We didn’t even play a proper hole,” Harry giggles.

Louis’ heart lurches in disappointment in himself when he doesn’t make a rude joke. “Well, that’s alright. You still had fun, didn’t you?” He lifts his eyebrows in hope and tears a bit off his bagel and pops it in his mouth. It’s cheesy, like the puns Harry makes up during lunch break.

“I had a lot of fun.” Harry leans his face in his palm and rests his elbow on the table, staring on at Louis like a puppy after a bone. Louis figures he’s got him, line cast and fish caught now just _pull_ , but then Harry’s serene expression drops and he clears his throat. “I, uh. I should head home. The, uh, pitch meeting is soon, isn’t it? It is, so. Gotta prepare.” He gets up.

A soft little lump finds its way into Louis‘ throat and he’s really just disappointed, is the stupid thing, disappointed that he thought this would work at all. Maybe it just won’t.

He goes home after a brief, awkward hug and then tugs himself off while he weeps a little.

\--

Louis’ in the front of the room with all of the staff staring at him, but all he can look at is Harry and the way his eyes are puffier today, a little red.

He plugs in his USB stick regardless and watches the big screen pop up a tab, and goes through his files labeled _PORN.doc_ and _pornnn hahahah_. _doc_ and _definitely not porn.doc_ and _nudes.doc_ and _best friends nudes.doc_ , and clicks _nudes.doc_ and hears his coworkers giggle a little even though they’re used to seeing this at meetings. Louis looks desperately to Harry to see if he’s amused, too, if he thinks Louis is funny, and he sees a devastatingly beautiful smile on Harry’s face. Still wobbly, a little sad, and Louis has to wonder if it’s because of him or because the poor guy lost his great-nan or something.

He has an advert to present, though, so he rips his attention from Harry and goes onto it. It’s smooth enough, even though his mind is clearly not on what he’s doing, but when he looks to Walsh the man looks impressed and that’s quite a feat. Louis has to admit that his advert is pretty fucking great – for a perfume line by some hip and fancy pop band that Louis hasn’t bothered looking up properly.

“You’ve done me proud,” Walsh says when Louis walks round the table and passes by, and Louis just needs a hug from someone he knows loves him, or rather _has_ to because _family_ , and Walsh hugs him back kindly because he can sense Louis’ sadness, maybe. Sadness because he can’t get a boy to like him. A very important boy, mind you.

Louis sits in his spot and dares a glance toward Harry, but his seat is empty and he’s fleeing the room.

\--

At lunch hour Louis doesn’t sit with Harry and instead flirts with older men by the water cooler. Everyone knows who he is, of course, but he still introduces himself and grabs a few numbers that he throws out minutes later. Maybe his other nervous habit is flirting, alongside filing his nails. He’s nervous because Harry is weird. He’s so fucking _weird_ that Louis just wants to scream, wants someone other than Zayn to listen to woes because Louis’ used every trick in the book to try to get this guy.

His last resort is Liam, who’s been doing other things during the week besides following Louis like a puppy. He still smiles at Louis and even winks when he seems a little daring, and Louis winks back and it’s a bit of a thing. He occasionally stops Liam so find out more information to tell Zayn, and he fully intends for them to meet at Louis’ party and then frolic away and make sweet love. It’s the plan.

“Darling boy,” Louis says in his most dramatic voice, and Liam hops to his feet with a cookie in hand and kisses Louis on the cheek. They act too much like a couple and if Zayn saw it he’d tear Louis apart.

“Hello, Louis,” Liam replies sweetly. He nibbles on his cookie and sits back down, legs crossed at the ankle.

“Do you think you could give me some, ah, advice?” asks Louis quieter, because if anyone overheard that _Louis_ was asking for help, he’d be the laughing stock of the office. (Maybe not.)

“Anything.”

“How do you tell a boy you like them without telling them you like them?”

Liam blushes a little, only God knows why, and explains in his little shy deer way how he would like to be told, himself. It’s a little unhelpful that he’d only want a little kiss, because Louis is much more partial to dramatics and a boom and a bang, but he supposes a sweet small kiss could do, if he gets Harry in the right position.

Louis thanks Liam and then work is over, thank God, and he spills the beans to Zayn about Liam and his cute confessions. Zayn’s cleaned up during work, Louis can see, but he doesn’t comment on it. He knows Zayn would just clam up in embarrassment and then not talk for the whole night, so Louis sticks with a brief kiss on his shaven cheek and holds his hand while they watch Cake Boss on their shitty, tiny tv.

He feels happy, which is very welcome. He has his next move for Harry planned and he _will_ go through with it, whether Harry tries to run away or not. He’s gotta have those lips. And maybe the kind words and giggles that come with it, too.

\--

Louis’ party is tonight. The whole office is invited like every year, but only the fun people come and Louis’ glad for that while he fills up his fourth cup and sees Perrie limbo-ing under absolutely nothing, screeching her monkey-like laugh. The only thing that sucks is that Harry’s nowhere to be seen. At all.

Louis tries to have fun. He drinks a lot and tries to push Zayn toward Liam, but it’s fruitless. He makes his way to Perrie and snogs her just for fun and just because he’s drunk, and she spanks his ass and the people around them howl and cheer because a gay man kissing a lesbian is apparently is the best thing to be seen, ever. Then Perrie toddles over to her girlfriend and they dry-hump their way to a bedroom. Louis’, probably. Whatever. He owes it to Ash for making a show with her girlfriend.

Harry finally shows up and Louis nearly faints with glee. He looks gorgeous – fancy outfits swapped out for tight, black jeans and a purple swoop neck and it’s just so _dashing_ on him. And Louis has to have him. He’s waited long enough.

He strides over to Harry – gracefully, he might add, he’s not drunk enough to be stumbling everywhere – and hugs Harry so tightly that Harry _oof_ s and holds Louis back.

“Hello, handsome,” Louis coos, sliding his hand up Harry’s neck and pulling lightly at his baby curls. Harry swallows and doesn’t say anything back until they’ve pulled away.

“Are you sure you should be calling me that?” he asks nervously. He’s the cutest little thing and the alcohol in Louis’ system is really seeping in. He mentally damns his idea to woo Harry properly and dives into his seduction plan.

“Sure I’m sure. Now follow me, deary.” Louis leads him far off, to Zayn’s room which hasn’t been used because Zayn says he feels lonely in there, or something.

When they’re in there, door closed and music thumping pleasantly on their chests, Louis slowly winds his arms around Harry’s neck and pulls him in until their foreheads are pressed together and their eyes are locked. He figures he’s mastered his seduction degree when he says, “You’re going to get us naked, and then you’re going to fuck me until I can’t walk. Alright?”

Harry looks like he has an internal battle with himself before he shivers and grabs Louis’ hips, quickly walking him over to the bed and shoving Louis down. Hard. Louis knew Harry wasn’t as innocent as he seemed at first.

The next thing he knows, he’s panting and sat on top of Harry’s cock with Harry growling and grunting under him, hands sliding from Louis’ waist to his ass and slapping and squeezing. It’s – surreal, in a way; Louis didn’t really think that this would work, but it had, and he has to stop thinking about it and enjoy the way Harry’s cock slips in and out of him and how Harry’s lips are as red as poison cherries.

At one point Harry’s hands just cross behind his head and he lazily watches Louis move up and down on him, and that’s nearly hotter than the whole thing; just Harry not doing at thing and letting Louis use him to get himself off. It makes Louis so dizzy.

Then Harry grabs Louis and flips them over, hands holding him tight and securely and Louis whines pathetically and briefly thinks about how all his colleagues are outside the door, and could easily walk in, but then Harry is looming above him and moving into him so hard he can’t think about it anymore.

It’s— _intense_ , is what it is, and Louis can’t handle it. He squeezes his eyes shut and his head tosses to the side, his whole body trembling with something like need, even though he’s getting as much of Harry as he could possibly get.

Two fingers take hold of his chin and turn his face back to Harry, and Harry’s voice absolutely comes out as liquid sex when he says, “Look at me, and don’t stop looking at me.”

Louis’ eyes fly open, then, and he gasps at how intensely Harry’s looking at him, like he’ll never be able to again. Harry keeps driving into him with intent and Louis feels his thighs begin to shake; it’s a good shake, though, because the burn of having his legs open so wide for so long is just kicking in and he knows he’s done his body some beautiful damage so it makes him feel nearly euphoric.

“So – small, open f’me,” Harry mutters pretty much to himself, and in a different moment Louis would cackle his head off, but in this moment he stutters out a moan and drags his fingers harshly down Harry’s flexing, muscle-y back. 

Louis’ so glad that Harry’s holding him so tightly because he’s sure that if Harry weren’t, he would shake apart and crumble to pieces on the ground. Harry shoves hard into him one last time before Louis falls apart, as deep as he can go, it seems, and Louis’ whole body jerks with his orgasm and a punched-out, desperate and pathetic _ah_ falls from his lips. He abs contract and he’s bowed up off the bed and his nose is touching Harry’s, eyes so close together that Louis can’t see him properly - though he wouldn’t be able to see him properly anyway.

“God, god, god, _fuck_ , keep going,” Louis begs him, and Harry obliges, sliding his hands under Louis’ bum and holding him up while he fucks in and out and stares Louis down like he’s the most wonderful fucking thing he’s ever seen.

Louis can’t help but think this is way different than just a one-night fuck. Harry’s looking at him so desperately and pleadingly and just that alone is enough for Louis to be gasping for breath, and then Harry thrusts in and holds himself there, and for a few agonizingly stunning moments Louis and Harry just stare at each other while Harry comes. Louis shudders harshly.

Afterward they clean up and move like salt and pepper around each other, and when they’re clothed and walking towards the door together, Harry pauses him. “I guess we shouldn’t be telling anyone about this,” he says, and Louis reaches up to tuck a curl away from his eyes.

“If that’s what you want.” Louis isn’t all that offended. Maybe Harry’s private about this sort of thing. Louis surges up and kisses him one last time before rejoining his party, and it seems things have gotten a tad crazier while they were gone; Niall is trying to climb up the wall.

He enjoys himself for a little while, stomach only twisting unpleasantly when Harry eyes him across the room with eyes guiltier than a dog that’s just peed on your favorite pair of shoes. Louis figures he better get used to Harry Styles: the enigma.

At some point during an Iggy Azalea song Liam stumbles over to him, all blushy like always but this time alcohol is helping with the red on his face. Zayn’s behind him and making faces - frustrated ones, mind you, but it’s his own fault that he won’t just grow a set and talk to Liam himself.

"So, you um, you said s-someone likes me," Liam giggles, teetering and using Louis’ waist to balance himself. It’s a little close for comfort, but whatever.

Louis finds him absolutely adorable and winks at Zayn behind his back before going to reply, but then Liam swoops forward and lands his lips on Louis’. It’s - well. Louis’ first reaction when someone kisses him is to kiss back, so his hands go to grab at Liam and he lets his mouth do what it will for all of two seconds, but then he rips himself away and blinks furiously. “I - why did you do that?" he demands, leaning to look at Zayn but finding none other than Harry beside him, and both are staring with less-than-pleased looks on their faces. (Or murderous.)

Liam calls after him while Louis calls after Zayn who’s storming away, and. Well. _Shit_. This is more drama at a party than he’s seen since he was 21. Which is only three years ago, but still.

Louis suddenly feels like this isn’t fun and games anymore; he feels like he’s severely hurt someone he’s loved and pissed off the man he just fucked, and on his run out the door he even sees Gregory, who also looks crushed. Louis’ ego is laughing about how lusted-after he is, but the rest of him is sobbing for his best friend.

He finds Zayn a few streets down and grabs Zayn’s arm but he wrenches it away with a low, angry noise.

"Is this a game for you, Louis? I realize that life is this big fucking joke to you, but I didn’t think you’d do this to me," he spits into Louis’ face.

Louis uses every ounce of strength he has to not cry and lash right back at Zayn. “He kissed _me_!" he tries, but Zayn just pushes him.

"Well it wasn’t for no reason, was it? You probably led him on, like you do to every fucking person you meet. You’d do anything to sleep with someone."

Louis feels something terrible rip through his body, like an electric spark in his heart that shoots out to his toes and fingers and settles in his chest. It’s the worst feeling he’s ever felt. “Are - are you calling me a whore, or something? Because if you don’t recall the last person I slept with was _you,_ a _year_ ago-"

" _Fuck_ you." Zayn lunges like he’s going to push Louis again, but he just flips his middle finger and takes off down the street. “Selfish bastard," he calls.

Louis weakly mumbles to himself that he was going to spend his extra money on Zayn, but then he realizes that he spent it on himself for food. Maybe he is selfish. He had just lied to Zayn about who he’s been sleeping with, but.

He rationally knows that Zayn’s so upset because he spend two hours getting ready to meet Liam, and then hadn’t had the nerve to talk to him at all and the fact that Louis kissed Liam is just the fucking cherry on top. He knows that the insults that Zayn’d hurled meant nothing, but still had some insight about what Zayn thought about him, so he slumps back home and hides himself in his room after kicking Perrie and Ash out. He cries a little, or maybe a lot, and tries to get the horrified look of Harry’s out of his head.

—

Louis doesn’t go to work the next day but he doesn’t stay at home, either. He just mopes around the city and after he gets a text from Zayn that says _im at a hotel dont worry_ and Louis texts back _what fucking money did you use because you dont have your own_ and then _im glad your safe_ he grabs his car that he seldom uses and drives around.

He sees a hitchhiker and drives them to Boston and tries hard not to think about the time that Zayn had said ‘Bonerton’ in a drunken stupor. He also tries to not think about the absolute disgust that was on Harry’s face when Liam had kissed him. His face is like, engraved in Louis’ mind.

After driving the hitchhiker to Boston he decides to go to work and grab his drafts because if his life is going down the drain, he might as well get some work done so he doesn’t fail at that, too.

"Sorry I’m late for work, everyone! I was driving a fella to Boston. I hope I didn’t take too long, did I?" he calls a little deliriously to the empty office, tapping the desk of each cubicle on the way to his own.

It’s dark in the office since it’s nearly 10pm, but he makes his way around fine and pauses behind a wall when he hears quiet voices, hushed ones, and wonders if Walsh is having an affair again. Maybe. Probably.

He sneaks over to his cubicle aisle and peaks down it, and spots - Zayn. Pushed against Harry’s desk with Harry. Harry kissing Zayn’s neck. Louis’ stomach drops.

"Wow," he calls, coming out of hiding and walking straight over to them. “Isn’t this _something_? This really is something. Forbidden love in the office. It does have a sexy appeal, doesn’t it? Man. Okay." He know he sounds like he’s on helium when he speaks, because his voice is so high with the effort not to start bawling or rip the whole office apart. He really - he didn’t expect this. From Zayn.

He feels pathetic, really, for thinking that he could properly get Harry when Harry’s type is clearly asshole fuck-of-a-friend Zayn. He probably just fucked Louis because Louis basically begged him to.

They’re both staring at him with shocked deer eyes, and Harry’s lips are like a bright red beacon in the night and Louis has a hard time not ripping them off and throwing them in the trash bin.

"Louis, um. What - what are you doing here?" Harry is dumb enough to ask, while Zayn’s cowering behind Harry and not even having the decency to look in Louis’ eyes. At least he’s got some shame.

"Well, I wasn’t here today. As you probably noticed. Or maybe not. I was just being a good person and driving a hitchhiker to Boston while my best friend was hooking up with my - colleague. So. Wee-oo." Louis twirls his finger in the air with a manic-sounding laugh and Zayn’s still said nothing, Harry’s blushing like this is just some kind of funny mishap, like Louis should giggle this off and head on home so they can continue doing what they’re doing.

They all just stare for a moment.

Louis coughs. “Okay. See you at home, Zayn. Maybe not." He turns and leaves and ignores the quick gasp from Zayn that he knows means he feels guilty, because he knows Zayn, he knows all his reactions because they’ve been friends since pre-k, and he ignores the little giggle from Harry and the “it’s funny that you two know each other" like ha-ha this is just a great coincidence, right?

On the way home he cries because he’s at his breaking point, probably.

—

Louis fingernails are nearly nonexistent when he wakes the next morning and sees the product of himself being upset, with a dose of alcohol in there as well. His room is a mess and there’s bags under his eyes - big, purple ones, and he looks like his dog has been killed and his mom has just told him he’s adopted. Maybe worse.

There’s this dread in his heart that he hasn’t felt since his parents’ divorce and that might be pathetic. He wants to call his mom and ask her how she got over a heartbreak, even though he knows that he never loved Harry. Maybe it’s sadder that he couldn’t. Or didn’t get to.

On the work he listens to his Sad CD that he only really brings out when he gains five pounds in one single weekend or breaks up with someone before they’re able to even exchange a simple handjob. It has a lot of Lana Del Rey in it and a bit of sappy boyband music.

Harry seems to be too embarrassed to even look at Louis when he walks into the office and sits down at his chair. He had a prank planned to start a little dance party, but he’s just not feeling it. Not even Azealia Banks could get his mood up at this point.

He gets work done. In fact, he gets a lot of fucking work done. Walsh does his routinely check-up on Louis and has a guarded face as if he expects Louis to pull a live snake out of his pocket, but when he sees that Louis is just doing his work properly and is pretty mopey, too, he gives Louis a big hug and when he leaves again, Harry is staring at him; with that same open, disgusted look on his face. Louis barely has any emotion juice left to feel.

He figures that he has nothing at all to lose when he says, quite loud enough for Harry to hear, “I really liked you a lot. Like, a lot.” He keeps his eyes on his papers and doesn’t for a second look up, and if he was completely unconscious to what his mouth was doing he would have thought that he was just casually mentioning the weather.

Harry breathes out loudly and jerkily turns to face Louis, the wheels of his chair scraping harshly. “I really liked you a lot too, Louis. Just because I did didn’t mean you could pull me around in your fucking whirlwind of other boys. You’re god damn married, Louis.”

Louis sighs; he feels pretty terrible that Harry had to see him kiss Liam and – wait. _Married_? “Married? Excuse me, I – ”

Since Louis’ life is some kind of fucking sitcom, Zayn comes running into the office with flowers in his hand – daisies, Louis notes, his favorite – and bolts over to Louis. “Louis, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he blabs, and Louis can’t even focus on his best friend apologizing when Harry’s just fumed off about him being _married_.

“Hold on a moment, Zayn, one dramatic event at a time. Married? I’m not - ”

Walsh shows up. “Louis, is there a reason you’ve invited a party to the office?” He throws his hand out to Zayn; Harry groans and hides his face in his hands; Louis actually, genuinely whines. This can’t possibly, actually be his life.

“Everyone shut the fuck up for a moment. Harry, I’m not fucking married; Zayn, apology accepted, but you’re a cunt; Walsh, please. Not now.” He can’t bear to look at any of them, not for a single moment. He’s sure all their faces are gaping at him and he’s also sure the whole office has shut down to watch the dramatics that is Louis’ life.

He’s just about to swallow his nerves down and peek up at them all when Liam decides to toddle over, all oblivious and happy, and stands in their little circle of tenseness with his hands on his hips. “Hello, everyone,” he says cheerily, clearly so fucking _smashed_ at the party that he doesn’t even remember that he’d kissed Louis.

Everyone starts speaking at once. Harry sounds exasperated but that’s about all he can tell, because Zayn’s voice is shouting over his and Walsh’s voice is shouting above Zayn’s and Liam just cowers and slinks away. Zayn watches him. If Louis doesn’t end this in two seconds, he’s going to bring out his emergency dildo and wave it around at everyone. Maybe then they’d shut up.

Louis stands and gives a shrill shriek, and then they finally all close their mouths and look over at him. Louis feels immensely powerful and kind of wants to try a game of Simon Says, to try to hypnotize them to do dirty deeds, but. This is a Serious Moment.

“Please. Everyone. We’re all here for me, so just listen up.” Liam’s still there, hiding behind Zayn funnily enough, and he opens his mouth to protest probably that he’s not here for Louis, but Louis silences him with a deathly glare. “Liam kissed me and that pissed a few people off - ” cue Liam’s gasp of shock, “but I’d like to let you all know it didn’t happen on purpose. It just – drinking, party, you know how these things go. Zayn shouldn’t have flipped his shit on me but he’s apologized so that’s fine; Zayn, turn around and meet Liam. Go away and kiss. Walsh, come back in ten minutes and all of this will be okay. Harry, come with me to the loos. Now.”

They’re all pawns in Louis’ game, honestly, because their dumb gobs go slack and they do what they’re asked. Mind you, Zayn just turns around and shyly introduces himself to Liam instead of snogging him, and Walsh goes to lecture Louis before he notices that Louis has already fled and left for the bathrooms, Harry sheepishly trailing after him.

When Louis is in a stall, he leans his head on the bright red door and takes a few breaths. That was probably the most ridiculous moment of his entire life. He didn’t even know he could get so many people involved with him at one time.

The bathroom door opens and closes. “Lou?” Harry calls, all dumb nervousness and anxiousness in one voice.

“You’re such a shit,” is what Louis replies frustratedly, and he bursts out of his stall to shove Harry against a wall and kiss him so messily that his lip gets squished painfully between his own teeth and Harry’s, and it actually hurts quite a bit. Nevermind that, though, because he’s going to take this and Harry’s going to like it. Harry does, if his little squeak and then insane groping is anything to go by.

“Why,” Louis pants, “the fuck, did you think I was _married_?” Harry’s hand slides lower and holds Louis’ entire left side of his ass. Which is quite a feat.

Harry groans and puts his other hand at Louis’ bum, and lifts him up so swiftly that Louis has to squeal and wrap his legs around his waist, lest he fall and ruin this entire _thing_. “Because - with Mr. Walsh, you guys, I thought – ”

“He’s my fucking _uncle_ ,” Louis hisses before rudely sticking his tongue into Harry’s mouth, and he knows for sure that he’s not above bathroom hook-ups, so he wedges a hand between their bodies and pushes the heel of his hand against Harry’s dick while he tries to breathe and kiss. “And is there a fucking reason why you were kissing Zayn yesterday?”

“Because I was mad at you for sleeping with me when you were married and then you kissed Liam!” Harry defends, huffing while Louis peppers his face and neck and jaw with kisses; there’s so much to say but that can all _wait_ because Louis is going to have this. He’s going to have Harry Styles.

Harry goes to speak again, and Louis is certainly not in the mood for more of that, so when Harry opens his mouth Louis slides two fingers past his lips and pushes down on his tongue. He figured Harry would scrunch his face out and push them out with his tongue, but instead he goes stock-still and moves his head further down on Louis’ fingers, sucking hotly and desperately. It’s about the strangest, most erotic thing Louis has ever been a part of.

“I – okay, sure,” Louis whispers, letting Harry have his way with his fingers while his other hand keeps rubbing on Harry’s ever-growing bulge. He feels like he can sense every little piece of Harry in this moment, and he most definitely senses when Harry’s knees give out for a moment at a particularly hard squeeze on his dick, so he slides himself down Harry’s body and keeps sliding till he’s on his knees. Somehow he’s not surprised that this is the way everything has turned out between them.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry groans as if Louis is sucking at him already, head back against the white wall and hands sliding into Louis’ hair, and it’s hot enough that Louis doesn’t chastise him for touching his hair and instead works at his jeans.

It takes a whole thirty seconds to work Harry’s unbelievably tight jeans down enough to pull his cock out through the slit in his boxers, and once it’s out, Louis feels like he should pause time and get a professional painter and a camera so he can record the beauty that is Harry Styles’s cock. It’s pink, and long, and thick, and Louis’ mouth literally salivates so much that he drools a little bit with his lips spread. He hadn’t had the change to appreciate it fully before.

“Did I severely misjudge what was going to go on here, or are you gonna...” Harry mumbles, attitude strong in his tone, and Louis glares at him before wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock and tapping it against his cheek just to see Harry’s face twist up in pleasure. It’s gorgeous.

After just a few seconds of suckling softly at the head of Harry’s dick, his hair is pulled harder and he’s pushed down until Harry hits the back of his throat and he gurgles around it, but definitely _doesn’t_ choke because he’s good at this, he’s so good at this and he knows it. He can see it in Harry’s flushed face.

Louis pulls off to say, “I don’t know why that was necessary,” and then finds a rhythm in bobbing his head to the sounds of Harry going _ah, ah, ah_ , and he’s so focused on just Harry that he barely notices how hard he is in his trousers. He still does, though.

Harry pulls his hair so hard that he feels bits being tugged from his skull but he doesn’t mind, is the sadistic thing, and he moans around Harry’s cock to get him to do it more, and more, and then he feels Harry go completely still and he goes quiet too, just holding Louis’ mouth all the way down his dick while he comes in pulses; when he’s done, he says a long _fuuuuuuuuuuck_ and lets go of Louis before slinking down the wall.

Louis grins at his handiwork and watches as Harry slowly regains his bearings, and dopily reaches forward for Louis, but more importantly, Louis’ belt. Even in his sedation he’s staring at Louis so intensely that it’s a bit freaky, but Louis doesn’t have a mind to care when Harry’s mammoth hand wraps around his cocks and pulls relentlessly until Louis’ squeaking like a mouse and thrusting Harry’s hand through his orgasm.

He slumps over Harry, and Harry slumps over him, both their cocks out and both panting like they’ve run up a set of stairs. Or maybe that simile just works for Louis, because he hasn’t purposely worked out in ten years.

After a small while, Harry deliriously says, “You’re not married.” He repeats it over and over until Louis figures he feels like he’s driven it home, and Louis nods.

“Harry, I – ”

Liam and Zayn come stumbling into the bathroom with their mouths attached and their hands flying everywhere; Louis shrieks when they barrel toward him and Harry like a hurricane and then they freeze, looking down at the two slumped figures. Louis thinks they probably look pathetic with the way Harry’s arms have curled around his belly and held him there for dear life.

They all just stare at each other for a couple moments. Louis thinks that this is very ironic that they’ve all indirectly kissed one another. He says so out loud, and the amount of cackling that follows is enough to fill up a laughter tank from Monsters Inc. or something.

It’s – yeah. Louis is content. Even sweaty with his pants around his thighs and his best friend snogging another boy one foot away, he’s absolutely content.

Life is a beautiful fucking thing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi thnak u for reading and just so you know because like barely anybody knows i am stylinist on tumblr!!!!!!!!! hey


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